Getting to Florence
by CharlieBZ
Summary: How Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle got from Gotham to Florence. (Part 4 is rated M for sex and language.)
1. Chapter 1

They watched him take off, holding their breath as the bomb barely cleared the guardrail. After the Bat flew out of sight, the two strangers looked at each other without speaking and waited. Waited for the end, waited for the beginning, waited for who knew what to happen. Selina had faith though, and from the look of the cop, he did, too. An explosion thundered in the distance and by then Selina had had enough of waiting. Without a word to the other man, she hopped back on the Batpod and tore off. While she had no doubt that Batman would succeed, that he would save the people of Gotham, she'd be damned if she would stick around for any celebrations.

She sped easily through the empty streets and as she rounded yet another deserted corner she heard a different noise in the far distance. The sound was eerily muted. The light of the morning flashed brighter and, for a few moments, the air felt heavier. _Well, that's that_, she thought, refusing to feel sad. After all, she had an island to get off of.

Selina figured she had time to swing by her apartment, change her clothes and grab her emergency get-out-of-town bag that had been packed for months before everyone realized what happened and flocked to the tunnel. The street in front of her apartment was still empty. Parking the pod in the shabby foyer, she hopped off, ran upstairs, peeling off parts of her costume as she ascended. After sliding on jeans and a Gotham U sweatshirt, she jammed her feet into her old motorcycle boots, shrugged on her old black leather jacket and grabbed the worn leather satchel that was not where she remembered setting it. She spared hardly a glance for her cozy apartment, she'd long since said a mental goodbye to her possessions months ago. In less than two minutes, she was back on the Batpod, speeding toward the tunnel. Word must have spread that the tunnel was open; the entrance was now clogged with vehicles crowded with desperate citizens anxious to escape but Selina easily weaved past the throng of cars and buses until she broke free of the horde.

Much as she liked it, the distinctive Batpod had to be ditched as Selina was not interested in drawing attention to herself. She kept a motorcycle in an old garage in a depressed and mostly abandoned part of outer Gotham. She parked the pod in the corner and covered it with a dirty tarp then dragged a few trash cans in front of it. Such a vehicle deserved a better home but she pushed sentimentality aside as she dug through one of the trash bins for one of her emergency stashes of cash. It wasn't much, just enough to get her sufficiently far away where she could comfortably access her nest egg. Sliding the battered helmet on her head, she climbed astride her Triumph. The starter was still tricky, but it was familiar and oddly comforting. After a minute, the cycle loudly roared to life and she left Gotham.

Selina had no destination in mind. Since the interstate going south was the less congested that was the direction she took. The constant hum of the engine was a welcome companion as she continued down the bustling highway. She kept her mind occupied with the drive, the cars she passed, the license plates, the amount of McDonald's she passed, anything but him and what he'd done and not done. Every few hours, she stopped for gas, guzzled a cup of gas station coffee while eating a Snickers. She repeated the same actions through four states. Twelve hours later when she realized she'd been up for 36 hours she decided to pull over at a cheap roadside motel. Extra cash to the late night clerk earned her a Jane Smith registration with no questions.

The room was dingy but clean, a perfect place to sleep then leave. Fatigue over took her and she was almost too tired to brush her teeth. Dumping out the contents of her satchel on the brown floral bedspread, she rifled through her things looking for her toothbrush and was shocked to find a velvet box. As she stared at the elegant box, her exhaustion abated. Selina didn't have to open the box to know what was inside. Bastard. Did he expect to die? Was that really his plan? Bastard. Anger flooded her and she felt like robbing someone to show him but he was dead and there were only regular Joes at this motel and she did have her standards.

Setting the still unopened box on the TV, she went outside to find the vending machine. Along the way, she bummed a cigarette from a harried grandmother and chatted with her about how crappy the weather was. With each drag, her anger ebbed until she could return back to her room. She stuffed the velvet box back in her satchel not ready to think about the meaning of such a…gift? After peeling off her clothes, she leaned against the pillows, her eyes darting to the satchel. Uncaring of getting crumbs on the sheets, she ate three bags of Fritos while mindlessly flipping through the channels bypassing the news in favor of middle of the night infomercials.

She missed checkout time, oversleeping by a good six hours but she had no place she needed to be and no one expecting her. And that was the way she wanted it, she reminded herself. Total freedom, no strings, no expectations, just her and her own decisions, answerable to nothing. Including her past. The mantra comforted her but the motel room depressed her but changing hotels was too much effort so she stayed and hung out on the second floor walkway, watching the cars speed by on the freeway. The man who lived in the room two doors down told her that the only thing to do in 'town' was the dollar movie theater a few miles up the side road. Seeing a string of cheap second run movies appealed fiercely. That and the popcorn.

After a long, extra hot shower, she dressed. The pearls looked great against her black turtleneck, her fingers caressing them throughout the three movies she sat through.

The next morning at dawn, she resumed her drive south.

* * *

The bright sun, the jaunty music of steel drums, and the laughing and splashing of sun worshippers all mocked him. He felt like an idiot and Bruce Wayne never felt like an idiot. Never. He had made a monumentally huge, embarrassing mistake. After a month of thinking and plotting and debating the wisdom of following a known thief and betrayer, here he was lurking at a poolside bar at a resort in Jamaica watching some guy slather sun-tan lotion on Ms. Selina Kyle's back and shoulders.

Sure, it'd been well over a month since he last saw her and, sure, she thought he was dead but he had expected a different sort of reunion. The last weeks spent recovering outside Gotham had given him ample time to ponder Selina and that last kiss. That kiss haunted him; it meant something he was sure of it. It was a promise meant to impel him to survive. And he had.

While he recuperated, he kept tabs on her, the GPS allowing him to observe her flitting around from Miami to the Bahamas to Cuba. Cuba concerned him but then, after a few days, she moved on to the Caymans. She stayed at cheap hotels, travelling by boat from island to island. Since no high end robberies had been reported at any of the locales she visited he didn't think she was working. For a guy who always had a meticulously plotted plan, the seemingly randomness of her travels baffled him. Was she really just meandering with no destination in mind? No easy answer presented itself and Bruce reminded himself that he knew nothing at all about this woman other than she was a thief but thanks to the Clean Slate that she had finally used in Miami, he couldn't do more digging.

He waited until she moved again before making plans to intercept her. On the flight down to Montego Bay, he indulged himself with various reunion scenarios but all his imaginings had not prepared him for seeing her flirt and laugh with some man whose very good looks could not be ignored.

"Your Pina Colada has melted, sir," the bartended said, smirking slightly as he rested his elbows on the wooden bar. The bartender had been on duty the entire time Bruce had been skulking at the bar. He was friendly and curious, trying to engage Bruce in conversation, offering to send a drink to whomever Bruce was interested in. "Would you like another drink so you can just eat the fruit?"

Bruce's steady gaze was unamused but the man smiled encouragingly as if he knew exactly what was going on.

"I'll get you a water," he said.

Bruce conceded that it was a curiosity, a patron sitting at a bar ordering drinks and not drinking them. For two hours. At first, the time was spent leisurely watching the pool area, waiting for some sign of her. He'd tried to understand her angle coming to a place like this. The resort was nothing fancy, not cheap, but not expensive. It looked like it catered to business types, not tycoons but middle managers taking their families along for a business convention. This crowd would have no jewels worth stealing. They were working people, people Selina implied she would never steal from.

Then she showed up looking better than he remembered wearing a skimpy black string bikini, dark sunglasses with her hair up in a careless bun. He smiled when he saw her until that guy brought over a couple of beers, making himself comfortable on the chaise next to hers. In disbelief, Bruce watched as they spent the early afternoon alternatively talking excitedly, laughing, and lazily flipping through magazines. She seemed to be having a good time, a genuinely good time, not fake fun like she was trying to con the tall, muscular, unscarred, laughing man at her side.

What he saw of her was more alluring than he'd imagined and then he started to get angry. Angry at her for leading him on then angry at himself for feeling led on when he may be at fault for misinterpreting her signals. And allowing her to think he was dead. He could have reached out to her sooner but the disappointment of finding her apartment abandoned so soon after the bomb went off rankled.

The bartender placed the glass of water in front of Bruce. He nodded in the direction where Selina was lounging on the chaise. Despite hating that the guy had obviously figured out where his interest lie, Bruce looked and everything changed. He smiled. The guy she was laughing and talking to just got greeted and kissed by another guy.

"Sometimes it's great when they turn out to be gay, huh?" The bartender observed and Bruce had the feeling that the man had known all along about Selina's companion.

The other man was in a suit, apparently an attendee of one of the conventions at the resort. He loosened his tie, sat and talked to them before pulling the other man away. Bruce turned to pay the bartender and saw the amused gleam his eyes. His gaze narrowed slightly not pleased to be the object of the man's amusement. He tossed cash in the tip jar. Not as much as the guy would've gotten if he had let Bruce know the gayness of Selina's friend from the start.

He slid on his sunglasses and made his way through the chaises cluttered with lounging tourists. As he approached, he saw Selina get up, pull her hair out of the bun, drop her sunglasses onto the chaise and dive into the pool. She swam leisurely, turning to float on her back, her eyes closed against the harsh sunlight. He appreciated the view, appreciated it even more when she climbed out of the pool, the sun glistening on the beads of water that trickled down her body.

Bruce was seated on the chaise lounge vacated by the handsome gay man by the time she returned to hers. At first, she didn't look at him, she had that practiced way of ignoring men when she didn't want to talk. She put her sunglasses back on and picked up a Vogue. Without looking up from her magazine she said, "Not interested."

"That's too bad," Bruce replied, carefully watching for her reaction. "It was long trip to get here."

She froze, her hand pausing midway between turning a page. He thought he saw the slightest of smiles before she looked over at him.

"Well, well, well, look who has nine lives."

They looked at each other without speaking, their respective dark sunglasses masking their eyes. He didn't know what to say to her, so he just offered the best smile he could muster and waited. Her head tilted to the side, indicating it was his turn to speak. She had no intention of making this easy for him.

"You said come away with me."

"Yeah, well, that was before you died." Her eyes may be hidden but he definitely detected an accusing glare behind the dark glasses.

"You left before I could tell you otherwise," he said.

She looked up sharply. Was that an actual contrite, almost guilty look from Selina?

"If you gave me the slightest inclination that you may have survived, I would have stuck around."

"I wasn't sure it would work so I didn't say anything," he said, the best he could offer in way of an explanation to his misleading her about the auto-pilot.

"A hint would have been nice."

"I don't do hints very well."

She looked back at her magazine, flipping the pages with more force than before.

"You're angry," he said.

"Now what kind of person would I be if I was angry that you're alive?" When she finally looked up from her magazine, her expression was neutral. He wished he could see her eyes but the dark glasses kept her true emotions from him.

"Maybe I'm just mad you're not dead," she said. "See the difference?"

"No."

She tossed the magazine aside, sitting up to face him, her feet jumping a little at the contact with the hot concrete.

"I thought you would have given up on women."

"Thought about it."

"But…?"

He had no answer for that. "You have my mother's necklace."

"You gave it to me."

"I loaned it to you."

"Tracking device," she stated, sounding vaguely irritated that she hadn't realized it before.

"Of course."

"You think of everything, don't you?"

"Yes."

She gazed at him for awhile before reclining back on the chaise, her fingers absently drumming on the armrest.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked, angling her head so that her naked eyes looked at him over her sunglasses.

He looked away, focusing his attention on watching a family indulging in splash play in the shallow end of the pool. "I don't know."

"So you haven't thought of everything, have you?"

"Maybe not."

She had no more questions for him. At least none that she wanted to ask in the bright Caribbean sun, so she relaxed and together they watched the tourists. Every so often, he glanced at her, trying to read her face but then his gaze got distracted by everything below that was beautifully revealed by the skimpy bikini. The strings that kept the bottom together taunted him.

"This isn't the kind of place I expected you to be," Bruce remarked.

"Why?"

"It's…" He searched for the right term, worried about offending her. "…more middle of the road than I thought you'd like."

"You think that because I like to steal from the rich that I like to hang out with them?"

"Well, no-"

"I'm on vacation. Hanging around rich people is work." She took a long drink of her bottled water. "If I want to have fun, I don't go to swanky places where people are more worried about impressing people they don't even know. People who come to these places are real. They save all year to come have a good time. That appeals to me."

"And your… friend? The guy here earlier?"

"Nicholas?" She turned, lying on her side, her bikini shifted, revealing more skin. He suspected she was very aware that the top was alarmingly close to revealing a nipple. "We met a few days ago and clicked. His partner is attending the convention here so we've been hanging out and bonding. Which reminds me…I promised to meet them at 6 for dinner."

She reached over, touching his wrist, bending it so she could read the time on his watch.

"They're leaving tomorrow and I'll probably never see them again," she explained sounding apologetic. "Why don't you come along?"

"Where?" He had visions of an evening spent in loud techno clubs, crowded between too many people.

"Well, we were going to hit a few flaming gay clubs after a supremely gay dinner but we'll make an exception for you."

"No, it's not that. It's…"

She nodded in understanding. "It's just that you have no idea how to have fun."

"Something like that."

She sat up, scooted to the edge of the chaise, leaned close to him. "Mr. Wayne, have you ever had a night on the town where you just had a good time? I mean a good time that didn't involve punching poor hapless criminals?"

"I can't remember."

She stared at him for a few moments, her expression inscrutable.

"That's kinda sad," she said, standing up. Gathering her things, she stuffed them into a colorful beach bag. "Meet us at six in the lobby. Don't dress up."

Without waiting for an answer, she walked away. Sauntered would be the better description, Bruce decided as his eyes followed her. She threw him a quick, inscrutable look over her shoulder before disappearing out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This section contains sexual situations and if that's not your cup of tea, just skip the last few paragraphs. Thank you for reading!

**Part 2**

At 6:01, Selina was sure he wouldn't show. She didn't know why but Bruce struck her as a punctual guy and here it was a minute late and she was positive he had changed his mind. Her agitation at his perceived dissing was carefully disguised as she chatted with Nicholas and his partner, Tony, in the lobby. She wished she brought her phone so she wouldn't have to ask for the time. Again. She was plagued by uncertainty, worried that she'd misplayed the whole reunion thing but what did he expect springing his alive self on her while she was relaxing by the pool surrounded by people? He had probably expected her to fall into his arms weeping with gratitude that he deigned to visit her well over a month after he supposedly died. Of course she had played it cool. Nonchalance was her standard reaction when her back was against the wall. But maybe…

At 6:02, she almost breathed an audible sigh of relief when she spied him across the lobby slowly making his way to them. He wasn't exactly limping but she could see that he wouldn't be up for a night of dancing. Their eyes met and Selina realized that this man was more trouble than she had ever encountered. Her instinct was to turn tail and get out before she got in deeper. Then she saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes and she was hooked. Here was a man who could do anything, fight anyone, defy death but a night out with a few strangers made him nervous. She liked that.

She also liked that his idea of casual attire was a five hundred dollar pair of tan trousers and a crisp white shirt that couldn't be bought for much less. By contrast, she had bought her simple form fitting sundress at an outdoor market in Havana for about twenty US dollars. Her high wedge shoes were a bit more expensive, though. After leaving him at the pool earlier, she had rushed to the hotel shop, blowing her budget for a week but there was no way she was showing up for dinner with Bruce Wayne in flip flops.

She met him part way. "Don't be nervous", she told him sliding her arm in his. "This won't be painful."

She led him to her new friends and as she started to introduce him, she paused, unsure of what he called himself now.

"Bruce," he offered as he shook hands with Nicholas and Tony.

Despite only knowing her for a scant four days, Nicholas seemed to sense her tension. He turned on the charm intent on setting everyone at ease. After a few minutes of getting-to-know-you chit chat, they piled into a small taxi with Selina squeezed between Nicholas and Bruce in the back while Tony sat up front with the driver. She watched Bruce as he provided vague answers to Nicholas' friendly, non-intrusive questions. He skirted the truth pretty well without outright lying: he was in between jobs, visiting Jamaica on vacation, met Selina at a business function back home.

"In Pittsburgh," Selina reminded him. He nodded in agreement, committing that bit of made up history to memory.

Tony had picked the restaurant saying he'd heard the food was authentic and popular with tourists and locals alike. After a short wait, they were seated at a table for six with two strangers joining them since seating was limited. Beers were bought with Bruce the only one opting for water. The atmosphere was ultra casual, the food cheap and deliciously messy.

Bruce was reserved but polite, not entirely comfortable but not ill at ease. Selina teased him lightly, gauging his reaction, trying to illicit something more than practiced courtesy. He responded with humor and returned her teasing jabs effortlessly with a smile that seemed less hesitant than before. Both Bruce and Selina observed more than they partook in the conversation. If it was a different crowd, Selina would have no hesitation offering stories of how she schemed, cheated, and stole from rich jerks but since one of those 'jerks' was sitting next to her and the rest of the table wouldn't get it, she decided it was best to just listen.

Tony, a surprisingly conservative CPA, was skilled in the art of regaling amusing anecdotes and soon had the entire table captive with his funny stories about clients, co-workers, and misbehaving business associates. Selina would have thought stories from an accountant to be beyond boring but she found that she liked Tony's stories about office life and she sensed Bruce did, too. She wondered if he was as baffled as she about how people functioned in an office day after day, what they did at their desks with files, post-it notes, paper clips and email. Selina had an insatiable curiosity about how regular people spent their lives and while Tony and Nicholas weren't exactly the most normal of people, they were the closest she had to appeasing her curiosity about the mundane; about shopping excursions to Costco and Pottery Barn, watching sports and movies, socializing with people who weren't in danger of going to prison.

About an hour into the evening, Selina realized she was testing him, evaluating who Bruce really was, waiting for him to do or say something to dispel the illusion that he was a decent guy and not an inbred snob with a death wish. She'd seen so many different versions of him that she couldn't comfortably settle on who the real man was. He was the first billionaire, or millionaire for that matter, that she cared to learn more about other than how to steal their valuables. The wealthy had always been a target, an unfeeling mass of privilege deserving of fleecing whenever possible and that is where her interest in them ended. But this guy? Very few people surprised Selina and Bruce Wayne had shocked the hell out of her.

Before she had invaded Wayne Manor to steal his fingerprints, she'd done a cursory search of him and was utterly unimpressed by what she found. Run of the mill rich boy with too much money and not enough sense who partied with big breasted women. The only thing approaching intriguing about him was his withdrawal from the world but she figured he must be a coke addict or something equally as unsavory and time spent in and out of rehab had simply taken its toll on his psyche. Whatever story she had invented for him was unflattering and proved to be nothing near the truth.

After she left Gotham, she googled him again for a far more thorough search. Clicking on every link, she was desperate to discover any truths about the Playboy/Recluse/Crime Fighter who had sacrificed himself for the city. She scrolled through the pictures she'd looked at before but this time she studied his face, his posture, searching for an indication of what was going on in that head of his. Most of the pictures were of him attending various society events looking bored, he had that seemingly natural ennui of the rich who thought everything was beneath them. Frankly, he looked like he would be an absolute asshole. The photos depressed her. The depth of his compassion would never be gleaned by the images she dug up so she stopped looking.

She felt Bruce's gaze lingering on her as if he, too, was trying to figure her out. There was a shyness to him that she found irresistible. She swept her long hair aside, giving him a good view of her neck and bare shoulder, before meeting his eyes. The cacophony of the restaurant seemed to fade as they held the look. Selina meant to not look away first but Tony's call for shots distracted her.

"No shots!" She cried out, emphatically shaking her head. "I'm still recovering from last night."

"What? No more karaoke?" Nicholas asked.

At that, Bruce perked up.

"She sang _Shadows of the Night_ by Pat Benatar," Nicholas explained. "Do you know it?" He asked Bruce. "Well, anyway, our lovely friend stumbles on stage and proceeds to knock us all out with this beautiful voice. The fabulous Ms. Benatar would've been proud!"

Selina rolled her eyes. "Of course it sounded good. You were drunk."

"Not that drunk, honey."

She shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "At least I didn't sing Air Supply."

"You would've given more time and more tequila!"

She looked at Bruce, shaking her head.

When the check arrived, Bruce and Tony good naturedly argued over who would pay the bill. Tony won, asserting the deductibility of the meal if he paid. They shared a taxi with the other couple who were staying at an adjoining hotel. Selina, the last to enter the cab, had no place to sit except Bruce's lap. Just like she planned. And maybe her squirming wasn't entirely necessary but it was very rewarding. At one point, Bruce's hands grasped her hips willing her to be still. She grinned at him, confident that he wasn't having a terrible time.

* * *

After they arrived back at the hotel, they exchanged goodbyes with Tony and Nicholas who opted to revisit the hotel bar. Selina told them that her annual drinking binge had been used up the previous night so she had no wish to indulge further. Selina and Bruce watched as Tony and Nicholas strolled off, arm and arm then looked at each other expectantly if not a little apprehensively.

Nervousness prompted Bruce to stuff his hands safely in his pockets but he jutted out an elbow to Selina which she stared at with one eyebrow raised before winding her arm through it. They walked outside in the cool night air.

"What did you think?" She asked, as they walked around the pool. "Not so bad, right?"

"No, not so bad. I liked them."

"It's hard not to. Nicholas and I met a few days ago and hit it off."

"Yeah, Tony said you two were, and I quote, 'thick as thieves'."

She laughed. "Not quite that thick."

They continued the walk in companionable silence making their way through the maze of pathways that led to various parts of the resort. The resort had standard hotel rooms as well as, what Bruce considered, moderately priced villas which was where he was staying. He already knew where Selina's room was and he knew that was the direction they were headed.

The night was quiet and cool, peaceful. In the distance, the ocean quietly roared giving Bruce a sense that he was in another world, so far from Gotham and the demons that he hoped he had laid to rest there. He snuck a look at her, wondering where the angry thief had disappeared to. The woman revealed to him tonight was far different than the one he met in Gotham and he found that he liked Selina Kyle far more than he should. Liked that she didn't take herself very seriously, liked that she didn't give a damn what anyone thought of her, liked that she laughed far more easily than he would have imagined. She was different than he expected yet exactly what he thought she would be.

"Well…this is me," she said as they reached a nondescript row of rooms that were on the opposite end from his. She opened the door then leaned against the doorjamb, gazing at him wordlessly. He thought he detected a challenge in her gaze but Bruce waited for her to indicate how the night would end.

She shrugged then smiled a rueful smile. "Good night, Mr. Wayne," she said, and closed the door in his face.

He stared at the door wondering what she was playing at but then he heard the deadbolt slide into place and got the message. He debated knocking and asking her what the hell she was doing but chasing women was not something he was accustomed to. Besides, he rationalized, she had to have a reason for doing what she did. What that would be, he had no idea.

As he walked to his villa he considered the whys of Ms. Selina Kyle and the mysteries of women feeling out of his element. If only she were committing a crime, then he would confidently handle that issue but this? Ok, maybe she was more old fashioned than he thought. Maybe she didn't like to hop in bed with a guy she really didn't know. Maybe it was that time of the month. Maybe he was just totally stupid when it came to females. Maybe he should know better, especially after not-Miranda. After Rachel.

He turned the corner approaching the little bridge that led to the villa section of the resort. Selina, grinning broadly, was waiting for him in the middle of the bridge.

"The look on your face!" She laughed. "Was that mean?"

"A little." But he was anything mad as he slowly approached her.

"I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not really."

"It's not like I pretended to be dead or anything."

He walked closer.

"And my room is a total mess," she explained, standing straighter, waiting for him to come to her.

"There's maid service," he said. Two more paces then he stood in front of her. Close but not touching.

"It's your turn, you know," she said softly as she rested her hip against the railing of the little bridge. This time there was no mistaking her expression; she was challenging him to make the first move. He did.

Resting his hands on the railing on either side of her, he leaned closer but didn't kiss her. Not yet. Her hands grasped the railing beside his as she looked at him, smiling a little mysterious feminine smile that promised him everything. He could hear her breathe, deep steady breaths. Her mouth enticed him, her lips parting slightly in invitation. He took his time before dipping his head and kissing her softly.

The kiss started slow, leisurely, and explorative. Then she shifted, her body pressed closer against his and the kiss went from gently exploring to fiery searching. His hands went from the railing to her back curling her tighter against him, her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer.

A laugh echoed in the far distance reminding them that they were still out in public. They broke apart, panting slightly as they assessed one another. Her smile wasn't as cocky as before and he was glad to see she was as affected by the kiss as he was.

She took his hand and led him down the bridge before turning to walk backwards, smiling at him as he followed her. Her eyes were seductive, her mouth smiling, her body beckoning. She was irresistible. He quickened his pace, his steps matching hers as she led them to his room, their eyes never breaking contact.

At the door, he pulled her to him for another deep kiss. As their tongues met, she let out a sigh that warmed his already over heated blood. His hand went from her back to his front pocket where he expected to find his key card. After patting down all his pockets, he looked down at her to find her reaching into her bra to produce it.

"Couldn't resist," she said, handing him the card.

Once inside the room, the heavy door closed with a dull thud and their restraint fled. They sagged against the door, kissing each other hungrily, Selina ardently meeting his seeking mouth with an intensity that matched his own. Her hands grasped his biceps as his hands slid over her body. One hand strayed from her hip to flip on one of the lights, dimming it until the room reached a soft, seductive glow. This was one thing he didn't want to do under the cover of darkness.

They made a slow progression to the bed. Selina gently pushed him to sit down on the edge of the high and luxurious bed. Standing in front of him, she pulled her dress over her head and as much as he liked the sight of her clad only in black bra and panties, he quickly stripped her of them so that she stood naked before him. Wanting nothing to impede his view, he brushed aside the mass of dark hair that fell over her breast. She watched him as he looked his fill while his hands wondrously caressed her soft skin. Touching his chin, she nudged him to look up at her then kissed him before sinking down to sit astride him, her tongue tracing his lips, her hands tugging at the shirt tucked into his trousers.

Keeping her pressed against him, he lifted her, falling with her on the bed so that she was under him. Her hands curled in his hair as he trailed wet, tonguey kisses from her neck to her breasts, her back arching when he took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked greedily and was rewarded by her soft moan. Her leg twined around his, her bare foot sliding up his still clothed leg as her bare hand slid under the waistband of his pants. He let out a labored and unsteady breath when she grasped him.

"You're clothes are on, Bruce," Selina whispered huskily, her hand squeezing him in just the right way. "That's a real problem."

He almost groaned in protest when she slid her hand away from him. Their fingers both worked to unbutton his shirt, to push it over his shoulders. As she tossed the shirt away from them, her eyes found his newest scar; the wound still healing, deep red and angrily raised. Her eyes lifted to his and in them, he could see her concern and something else he couldn't understand.

"It's fine," he said before kissing her again.

But the frantic pace of their lovemaking lessened. Together, they divested him of the rest of his clothes and began a slow exploration of each other. Their hands were everywhere, touching and caressing, memorizing each other's bodies.

When he entered her, she whispered against his ear: "It's good to be alive, isn't it?"

It was.


	3. Chapter 3

"What time is it?" Selina mumbled sleepily against the back of Bruce's neck. She knew he was awake; he was reading something on his IPhone. Stock prices, crime blotters, she could hardly guess what he read for fun.

"Almost 11," he said absently.

She rolled over, her eyes blinking against the harsh sunlight as she tried to muster enough energy to get out of bed. It had been a vigorous night. And morning. Morning sex was not something Selina often indulged in. She usually wanted the other person gone before going to sleep or she left to avoid any intimacy that actually sleeping with someone entailed. With Bruce, it didn't occur to her to sneak away and rush back to her own room and even if she tried, she's sure he wouldn't let her. And for that she was glad because she had thoroughly enjoyed him as they engaged in crack-of-dawn delightfully and surprisingly energetic sex that involved lots of rolling about the bed before falling back asleep.

"Ugh…I have to go. I have to check out of my room." Selina scooted away from him toward the edge of the bed but he reached out, grasping her hand to pull her back to him.

"Why do you have to check out?" He pinned her beneath him. "Why now?"

"The convention is over," she stated as if that fact should answer everything.

"So?"

"So…Attaching yourself to a business convention is the best way to score a free room" she explained. "The convention ends, the free room ends, too."

He stared at her for a bit trying his best not to frown at her. She found him very cute.

"It's not free," he said. "Someone is paying for it."

"Yes, but it's some megacorporation that can afford it." An innocently mischievous grin hovered about her mouth. "A big megacorporation like…say…Wayne Enterprises."

"You didn't."

"I did."

"How long do you intend to keep stealing from me?"

"I'm not stealing from _you_. Last I heard you don't own Wayne Enterprises anymore. And, you're dead."

"That'll be fixed."

"The dead part?"

"The owning part."

"But if you're dead, who will own it then?"

"Alfred. You're stealing from Alfred."

"Who?"

"My heir."

She sorted through the information she gleaned about him in her various searches. From what she could tell he had no family whatsoever then she remembered the Harvey Dent Day party. "That old guy at the party? He's your heir? I thought he was your employee."

Since he started nuzzling her neck, Selina surmised that he didn't want to talk about Alfred. She noted that for further reference. But she couldn't let him off the hook entirely.

"So, who's his heir?"

"Me," he said, trailing kisses over her jaw line.

"You rich have the most complicated legal issues." She closed her eyes, relishing his distraction methods but knowing she really did have to get up. One more minute, she promised herself yet there he was, naked, making her too fuzzy. Making her weak. "I really do need to go. Wayne Enterprises is paying the convention rate and I'd hate for Alfred to have to pay the standard rate. I think it's like double or something."

He lifted his head to look at her. "Do you take anything seriously?"

"Depends on what it is. Corporate assets? Not so much. But this?" Her hand strayed from his chest to lower parts. "This I take very seriously."

As they kissed, Selina pushed him onto his back then pulled away.

"But I have to check out now." She hopped off the bed before he could grab her again. She looked for her clothes, walking naked around the room which didn't cause her the slightest bit of self-consciousness. She liked feeling his eyes on her as she searched for her dress that had been thrown somewhere. She found it under some pillows then slid it on glad she had worn something so simple to put on. And take off.

Her underwear was nowhere to be found and she smiled at Bruce's expression when he realized she was leaving as is. She looked around the room before sliding open the desk drawer. Holding up the cheap hotel ball point pen, she said: "I'm taking this, okay?"

He shook his head in bemusement. "For the pen, you ask permission."

As she walked to the door, she wound her dark hair up on her head, sliding the pen into the mass of tangles to hold it up. Picking up her shoes, she blew him a kiss before closing the door behind her.

When she reached her room, she checked out via the TV dismissing a twinge of guilt at all the charges she had accrued during her stay. _Sorry about the mini-bar, Alfred._ She took a hot shower then stuffed her very few belongings in her worn leather satchel. In Miami, she had shipped her winter clothes, boots, and beloved leather jacket back home knowing they were wholly unnecessary in the sunny Caribbean. The only items she kept were her toothbrush, her running shoes, and the necklace that was still safely nestled in the expensive velvet case.

Her phone pinged indicating a text message.

_Leaving soon. Coming to say goodbye? _Nicholas texted.

_Meet you in 5 at your room. _Selina responded then slid the phone in the back pocket of her extra short jean cut-offs.

She put on her big, floppy beach hat then picked up her satchel and beach bag. With a quick last look at her room, she thanked Wayne Enterprises for the pleasant stay and left. On the walk to Tony and Nicholas' room, her phone pinged again with a text from Unknown Caller.

_Breakfast?_

She grinned. _Who is this?_

_Someone who's hungry._

'Hungry' invited so many different innuendos, she debated how to reply. Opting to play it safe, she responded: _Restaurant?_

_Room service._

_Pancakes, lots of maple syrup. Milk. Sausages. _Then, after thinking it over, she sent him one more text: _Not vegan! Saying goodbye to T & N. Be there soon._

She knocked on Nicholas' door wearing a pleased grin.

"You look like the cat that ate the canary," Nicholas said, standing aside to let her in.

"The bat."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, I'm being stupid."

"Nice night?"

_Yeah, I just fucked Batman. Like three times and it was better than awesome._

"It was okay," she told him in a way that clearly implied it was much more than okay.

She sat on their bed and chatted with them as they finished packing. While she was sorry to see them go, she was not nearly as sorry as she would have been had Bruce not showed up and that realization was sobering. That won't do, she told herself and decided to walk Tony and Nicholas to their cab instead of immediately returning to his room. After promises of keeping in touch and hugs goodbye she waved as their taxi pulled away. Once it was out of sight, she turned and leisurely strolled back to Bruce's room.

He answered the door looking irritatingly attractive wearing t-shirt and shorts with his hair damp from a shower. She kissed his cheek chastely then tossed her bags on the floor and her beach hat on the couch. The room had already been cleaned and tidied, all evidence of their passionate night eradicated.

"Did you find…?" She looked around the room for her underwear that she lost earlier.

He gave her a guarded look before nodding yes.

She grinned at his almost bashful expression. "Am I getting them back or do you have something else in mind?"

At that he smiled and she couldn't resist going to him for a kiss which ending up being more involved than she intended.

They were soon interrupted by a knock on the door signaling the arrival of their breakfast. With a nod to the two of them, the hotel employee wheeled the room service cart out onto the balcony. He then proceeded to set the table in a style that seemed way too fancy for breakfast. When he uncovered the cart to reveal two gas stoves, Selina realized the guy was actually going to prepare their food here and now.

"Wow," she said. "You know, for me, at my room, they just drop off a tray and leave."

"Ordered a lot of room service, did you?" He asked, and Selina got the feeling that he knew about all her room charges.

She didn't answer him but walked to the glass sliding doors that opened onto the spacious balcony to watch the chef work. The guy wasn't just some omelet maker you found at a buffet but a bona fide chef. He prepared their food with a skill and panache that she only saw on cooking shows.

Bruce touched her bare back, just below where her bikini top was tied, nudging her to step out onto the balcony. He held out a chair for her and as she sat down, the chef placed a napkin on her lap with more flourish than Selina felt was necessary. This level of service was mystifying but she suspected Bruce wasn't doing all this to impress her. She guessed that some habits of the wealthy were probably difficult to shed. She also guessed that if this man was really broke, then she was the Flying Nun.

The chef completed the food preparation and, as unobtrusively as possible, packed up his gear and quietly left.

Bruce's breakfast was appallingly healthy. An egg white omelet with lots of vegetables, fruit on the side, no bread, no butter, no oil, no meat: it was the opposite of hers. She slathered a generous amount of butter on every pancake then drenched her plate in hot maple syrup.

"I didn't notice your fine ocean view earlier," she said as she dipped her sausage in the syrup. The balcony was no more than fifty feet from the edge of the sea and was constructed in a manner that felt private, as if there were no other guest rooms in the vicinity. "If I wanted to see the ocean from my room, I had to stand on a little table on the furthest corner and crane my neck just to get a glimpse. I almost killed myself, you know. Thank God I didn't. That would have been so embarrassing."

"Yeah…embarrassing," Bruce said, amused.

"So…" Selina said. "What do you want to do today?"

He gazed at her for a moment before answering and, not for the first time, she wished she could read his mind. "The beach is there…" he said gesturing in the direction of the ocean as his gaze flicked from her chest to her face. "And you're already dressed for it."

"Yeah, I wasn't really expecting all this. Just pancakes. And I don't usually dress up for pancakes."

"I'm not complaining."

"I didn't think you were," she said as they held a long look.

"What is your plan?" Bruce asked, his neutral tone indicated he wasn't talking about her plan for the day.

"My plan?"

"What are you going to do after…this?"

The 'this' he avoided finding a name for was as perplexing for her as it was for him. For her, the plan was to engage in a little harmless fuckery, amiably go their separate ways then continue her journey in figuring out what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

"My 'plan' if you can call it that is to go where the winds blow me."

"Really?" He looked skeptical.

"Yes. You should try it sometime."

"What, roam the earth with no purpose?"

"Why not?" She leaned forward, her elbow resting on the glass topped table, her chin on her palm. "But to give you a specific answer to your question, I considered hopping on a bus and seeing the country. Go to the mountains. Or to Kingston. After that…" She shrugged.

"What about you?" She asked the question in the most off hand way possible.

"I have no idea," he said with a rueful smile before meeting her steady gaze.

Selina would have been very surprised if he had presented a well thought out plan of his life post recluse, post Batman. What did one do after such an existence? She was having enough trouble figuring out her own life she could hardly imagine what he was going through.

She tossed her napkin on her mostly empty plate then rose and walked to him. "Well," she said, leaning on the table, her hip next to his glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. "I hear the Blue Mountains are nice. Rainforests, waterfalls, nature stuff."

"Are you a fan of nature?" He asked, taking her hand, his thumb lightly rubbing her palm.

"I'm a city girl. Nature mystifies me. Naturally, I want to go look at it."

"Makes sense."

"So, you wanna come?" She rolled her eyes at her the unintentional suggestiveness of her question. "With me?"

"Maybe," he said, but she knew he did.

"How could you not want to? I'm the most fun you've had in…ever."

He nodded in agreement, his eyes not leaving hers.

She dismissed the pang of lust his hot look elicited. Maintain control, she reminded herself. "C'mon," she said, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go to the beach and be lazy all day."

After the day lazing on the beach and the night spent being definitely not lazy, they left late the next morning. Instead of depending on the unreliable Jamaican bus system, Bruce had arranged for a Jeep. Selina suggested that they should just guess their way around the country saying "how hard could it be to find mountains?" and was impressed that he made it a whole twenty miles before pulling over to access detailed maps on his IPhone.

For the next few days, they traveled around Jamaica's inland region. Selina liked seeing the Jamaica that wasn't popular with tourists, making Bruce stop at markets, shacks that sold food, or whatever else caught her interest. Her fondness for meandering aimlessly through a foreign country was not rubbing off on him so every morning while still in bed he presented options giving her final say about where they would end up the next night. He, in turn, compromised by not meticulously planning their hotel visits by calling ahead for reservations at the closest thing he could find to a luxurious hotel. She didn't think he minded the modest accommodations they stumbled on, all were clean with small but sturdy beds. "What more do we need?" She asked him the first night as he kissed her neck while hurriedly ridding her of her clothes.

He soon became comfortable with not hiding his lust for her. That look in his eyes, his desire for her, was more intoxicating than she ever would have imagined. They quickly learned all the things they liked, didn't like and the things that drove each other blissfully crazy. What Selina found most surprising, and alarming, was how well they got along outside of bed. She surmised that their easy geniality was largely due to the unspoken agreement that barred them from venturing into sensitive topics. Which wasn't terribly difficult as very little about this beautiful, sunny, vivid, wild country invited exploration into dark pasts. But sometimes it was tricky navigating around the unarticulated things; the more she learned about him the more she wanted to know everything.

"You know," he said to her one evening as they ate their dinner at a small restaurant way off the beaten path. "You're very nosy."

She'd been peppering him with Batman questions wanting to know every detail of the suit. Why the ears? How bullet proof was it? How did he get it on and off? How hot was it? Was it terribly uncomfortable?

"I am not," she replied with a little indignant huff. If she wanted to be nosy, she could think of far more invasive questions that could be asked.

"If you hadn't been snooping around my drawing room I never would have found you." Bruce looked like he had been dying to impart that little bit of information for quite a while. "You could've got my prints, left, and no one would have been the wiser. But, no, you just had to look in the safe, which I imagine was not part of your job, then you just had to poke around-"

"I was curious what a person does all day, every day, when they refuse to leave their house for years and years. That's being curious."

"I call it nosy." He grinned, enjoying teasing her. "And there's plenty to do at my house."

"Like shooting arrows."

"That and there's a pool and a library and, well, it's a big house."

"So's prison," Selina said, wincing a little when she realized she'd spoken before thinking. Her guard was lowering.

"I read a lot," Bruce responded, steering the conversation back into safer territory.

"Read what?" She asked as she peeled her shrimp.

"Books. Newspapers. Periodicals. Scientific journals"

"What kind of periodicals? Like porn?"

"See…that's a nosy question!"

"Curiosity."

"No porn," he stated firmly.

"Hmmmm…and yet you have such an imagination about things," she said giving him a look.

He tossed some cash on the table and took her hand, unmindful of the food not eaten. The modest guesthouse they were staying in was across the small street and they barely made it to the room where he put his imagination to very good use.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello, M Rating. In this chapter, you are well deserved. Rough sex ahead, people.

Selina proved to be an indifferent navigator preferring to prop her bare feet on the dash, fiddle with the radio stations, and watch the scenery leaving the maps and the driving to Bruce. He had no complaints though since he liked being behind the wheel. The rural roads were narrow and riddled with potholes, the drivers either speed demons or Sunday drivers. Driving in Jamaica reminded him of driving in Laos, you had to be alert at all times because you never knew what was around the corner; goats, cows or a couple of guys who believed that the middle of the road was a great place to conduct a conversation.

While they waited for the two men to finish their traffic stopping talk, he suggested a hike to the scenic waterfalls Selina had mentioned before. The hike would exacerbate his already throbbing knee but since when did pain stop him from doing anything? She gave him a 'you've got to be kidding me' look indicating she was onto him and his problematic knee. In the interest of keeping to their unspoken agreement, she told him hiking was not her idea of fun at all which wasn't entirely untrue. Apparently her interest in nature ended at the road, seeing the mountains and the lush greenery from the Jeep seemed to suit her fine.

She did, however, love exploring the small villages and towns they came across as they slowly worked their way back along the coast, spending their afternoons finding crowded marketplaces, wandering around to see what was for sale and was to eat. For Bruce, bland prison gruel was not a distant memory and he relished the spicy flavors of Jamaican street food. He was the far more adventurous eater, bringing her lunches from dilapidated trucks or from someone cooking over a fiery barrel.

They sat on an old bench in a crowded part of a small town that Bruce couldn't remember the name engaging in two of Selina's favorite pastimes: people watching and eating. The meal he had bought from a food truck parked in an alley was spread out between them.

"That kid's about to pick that guy's pocket," Selina observed before taking a drink of her _Ting_ soda. "Let's see if he gets away with it. I bet he does."

Bruce looked up then set down his beverage in alarm. He wished she was wrong about the kid with the sweet face but the child who couldn't be older than ten had that caginess to him, that wary bravado that he'd seen on many a face before a crime was committed. Don't do it, kid, Bruce silently pleaded, hating the feeling of helplessness. In many ways it was such a minor thing, a plucking of a wallet but he, like Selina, knew that children on this path rarely detoured out of a life of crime.

The kid almost made a clean getaway except the pickpocketee hollered for the police who were closer than expected. The officers raced after the little thief as he darted through the crowd heading in Bruce and Selina's direction. The kid dashed by and just as the police approached them, Selina jumped up, assuming the role of a ditzy tourist. Wailing about a stolen bracelet, she gestured wildly in the opposite direction the kid had run. The police looked skeptical until she loudly cried, "There he is!" prompting them to give chase. The kid made his escape never knowing he got saved by a better thief than he'd ever hope to be.

"Told ya he'd get away," she said with a smirk as she sat back down.

"Today maybe." Bruce rose and gathered the remainder of their lunch, tossing it into a trash can. His pleasure in the flavorful food was gone.

"We should go," he said walking toward their Jeep. The police had realized the futility of the chase and returned to the scene to locate the victims.

Selina plucked the keys from his hand getting in the driver's seat with a look that dared him to unseat her. She started the Jeep but instead of driving off like he really wanted her to, she let the Jeep idle.

"You think he'd be better off getting nabbed? Getting taught a lesson?"

"I'm not thinking that." He looked at the passenger side mirror seeing the officers searching the vicinity of the bench they just vacated. "Would you just go?"

"You don't know anything about that kid."

"Neither do you." Bruce suspected that, if necessary, Selina would carry her charade all the way to the police station but he had zero interest in getting involved with the authorities. "Selina, drive. Now."

As she sped away, she continued with the conversation that he wanted to be over. "I know him better than you do."

"Yeah, maybe. But just because a person has money doesn't mean he deserves to get robbed." He pointed to the right, indicating the direction to drive. "He's on vacation and now his wallet is gone with credit cards, ID, along with whatever bits of his life he kept in there. Did he deserve that?"

"So you have more sympathy for the tourist than the kid who needs to eat?"

"Not really." He needed to get out of this conversation with her but couldn't resist adding: "I do know that that kid's off to a bad start."

"Maybe it's his only start," she said quietly but she mercifully let the conversation end there.

They didn't talk as they wound their way up the coast. Selina drove skillfully but a tad too recklessly for his taste. At one particularly exasperating point, she answered a phone call, chatting with a friend as she swiftly passed cars on the narrow road with one hand casually resting on the steering wheel and the other one alternately holding the phone and gesturing. She threw him a quick look and he understood she knew he didn't approve and didn't care. He exercised his iron clad control to prevent himself from throwing the phone out of the Jeep. Later, when she abruptly stopped at a roadside fruit stand, he slid into the driver's seat as she bought them something to eat.

When she returned, he was adjusting the seat and mirrors. "You shouldn't talk on your phone and drive," he said.

"I don't think that's illegal here."

He almost rolled his eyes. "Just because it's not illegal doesn't mean you should do it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She sat in the passenger seat, handing him two mangoes to hold while she dug through her leather satchel. She flicked open a switchblade, then took one of the mangoes, cutting it for them to eat. With the blade in the same hand, she offered him a juicy slice which he did not take. "Never leave home without it," she explained before taking a bite of the mango.

"Of course," he said dully, feeling his anger rise at the way she was baiting him. He nodded to himself then asked the question that he was afraid to ask but since the day had pretty much already gone to hell he decided to go for it. "You don't have a gun in there, do you?"

"That wouldn't help with the fruit!"

His look was not amused.

"No gun," she said in a way meant to convey that she was lying.

But she wasn't, she was just trying to provoke him. And up to now, he hadn't minded her provocations since they centered on exploring and breaking sexual boundaries, pushing him to do things he never thought he would do. They conquered each other in the physical sense, but physical was okay. He knew physical; he had devoted a great deal of his life honing his body into a weapon, how to hurt, how to maim, how to cut through the defenses of adversaries, how to exploit weakness.

As she ate, she watched him from behind her dark sunglasses, waiting for his reaction. Like him, she wore a ball cap low on her head mainly to keep her hair from blowing wildly in the topless Jeep. She looked like a completely different person from the one he'd met in Gotham. Very little makeup, loose, casual clothes that showed lots of skin, her long hair in an untidy pony tail that fell through the opening at the back of the hat. So very different from the thief in the sleek, skin-tight, black outfit that he would never forget.

His eyes traveled from her bare feet up to her legs, her skirt was short, so short that he could see the black of her underwear at the apex of her thighs. Her cotton top was loose and low, the curve of naked breast peeked at him from the side and he became momentarily transfixed as he watched the movement of her as her chest rose and fell. Unlike his, her breathing was measured and calm.

He grasped her bicep, his fingers holding her arm tightly as he pulled her to him. She displayed no surprise at his abrupt movement. Her placid, controlled response angered him. With his other hand, he grabbed the blade from her hand, snapping it closed before tossing it on the Jeep floor.

The set of her mouth was angry but her lips were juicy from the fruit and he was fraught with tension, emotions he kept bottled up simmered, threatening to bubble to the surface. The sound of a gate crashing closed echoed in his mind and he kissed her roughly, tasting the mango on her tongue. She remained passive, allowing him to invade her mouth. He tightened his grip on her arm needing a response from her but she refused to give it. He drew back from her more angry than before. Her expression was inscrutable but he could see the pulse throbbing on her neck and knew she wasn't as unaffected as she wanted him to think.

The Jeep was far too exposed and he took a moment to regain control as he glanced around their surroundings before remembering they had passed something like a town a few miles back. Town would be a generous word for the cluster of colorful buildings that was a mix of a grocery store, bar, and other small buildings but there was something resembling a house for rent along the beach. At this point, he didn't care about the amenities only that it was close and secluded. He waited in the Jeep, his fingers impatiently tapping the steering wheel while Selina spoke to the owners of the house that actually turned out to be something more like a shack, painted bright turquoise, but ideally located on a lonely stretch of beach.

He walked inside the house ahead of her. The first thing he saw was a sturdy dresser. Slamming the door behind her, he grasped her about the waist and unceremoniously plopped her on the dresser before taking off their hats and sunglasses. The room, bright with afternoon sunlight that the gauzy curtains could not contain, was hot and humid. The air, heavy with heat, was charged with expectation.

Bruce reached under her skirt, roughly sliding off her panties then spread her knees. They looked at each other with their naked eyes and all he could see in hers was cool assessment with hints of challenge and judgment. He unzipped his fly, his gaze on her was hard as he waited for the slightest indication that she wanted this to go another way.

But her head tilted upward in defiance. "Go ahead," she said, her voice low. "Do it."

He grasped her hips, scooting her to the edge of the dresser and without checking to see if she was ready for him, he thrust into her, biting back a groan at her searing wetness. He pulled her closer to the edge of the dresser needing deeper penetration. They didn't kiss, their hands not following the customary patterns of exploration and pleasure giving. Her hands were flat on the dresser, keeping her steady. His hands went under her knees, holding her in place as he forcefully thrust into her, again and again. Something fell off the dresser, crashing and breaking on the floor.

Her head fell back a little but her heavy eyes remained on his and he was satisfied to finally see the smallest of reactions from her. She was quieter than usual, biting her lip to suppress her sounds of pleasure. He was louder than usual as he repeatedly slammed deep inside her. With each thrust, the pain in his knee, the ache in his back increased but the pain mixed with pleasure inflamed him further.

When his knee was on the verge of giving out, he lifted her, his back throbbing in protest. They were both slick with sweat but he held her against him so as not to break contact until he dropped her onto the bed. She lay before him, completely open, her skirt pushed up against her hips, her loose cotton top falling over her shoulders to reveal the generous swell of her breasts. As he removed the rest of his clothes, he gave her a slight indication to strip. When she was naked, he spread her legs then took hold of her thighs pulling her to him. His hands went to her wrists, holding them high over her head, stretching her body out. Her back arched, her breasts luring him.

Without releasing her, he dipped his head taking a taut nipple in his mouth, biting down on the smooth nub. Moaning softly, she writhed under him, her hips nudging his, wanting him inside her. When he didn't obey, she pushed against his hands in a vain attempt to seize control. Using his superior strength to keep her under him, he thrust inside her. His strokes were powerful and she soon abandoned all pretense of control or standoffishness, egging him on with her angry, heavy eyes and huskily whispered pleas of _harder_ and _faster_. Her eyes only closing as she came with a sharp cry.

His hands slid from her wrists to her hands, clutching them tightly when the ache in his knee intensified. The pain must have shown on his face which she wrongly interpreted as weakness and moved to flip their positions. He held fast to her hands, his ironclad grip holding her down which heightened her anger and he was not surprised to realize he wanted that for he was angry at her for a few things, too.

Her breasts, sweaty with the heat and exertion, brushed his chest, her nipples burning him. He lowered his upper body onto hers, both for the feel of her skin against his and because his back couldn't take that angle any longer.

She came again, quietly as if she didn't want him to know but he did. Knew all her signs, from the way her eyes lost focus and her tongue licked her upper lip to how her hips moved against his. He increased his pace, nearing his own climax and when he came, his hands let go of hers and his head fell to her neck as the throes of his release overtook him.

He turned his face into her neck, trying to calm his breathing and heartbeat but she pushed him off of her and hopped off the bed. The bathroom door closed and he heard the sound of the shower running. After a few minutes, the shower stopped and he heard her curse before the door burst open. Wearing only a towel, she went outside then quickly returned holding her satchel. She tossed the towel on the floor and put on her running clothes. Holding her running shoes, she left without saying anything.

She usually ran in the mornings telling him, "I like to run. It clears my head." Selina didn't jog like normal people but broke out in a full run maintaining the pace. When he commented on it, she shrugged and offered a breezy, "You never know when you're gonna be chased." Her exercise normally lasted about an hour but he figured today she required more clearing of the mind and estimated that she'd be gone closer to two.

The heat of the room was starting to get to him so he limped to the windows that faced the small porch, opening them to let in a warm beach breeze. Picking up the towel Selina had discarded earlier, he wrapped it around his waist and went to get the rest of their things from the Jeep. After putting on his swimming suit he headed for the beach which he hoped would be cooler than the stifling room.

He stretched out on the hot sand, dozing a little until his back demanded a different position. Sitting up, he stared at the waves for awhile before getting up and wading out in the blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. The water was pleasingly cool. He splashed the salty water over his torso before diving in. With the waves crashing over his head, his used his strong arms to swim further from the shoreline.

He was still swimming by the time she returned. She sat on the towel he had left at the edge of the water until he started to swim to her then she waded in the shallow surf to meet him.

"You're salty and sandy," she said.

He nodded, "I'm also starving."

She smiled, nodding in agreement.

The bar up the road served food and the few patrons sitting about were welcoming of new people as tourists didn't often visit their neck of the woods. Bruce enjoyed the fresh Wahoo caught by the man that sat next to them. After Bruce bought him a beer, the man happily provided them with a long and unbelievable story of his battle to catch the very fish they were eating. After their meal, Selina had a few beers but didn't get drunk. And when she leaned over and kissed his cheek, he knew she was going to leave him.

The next day it rained. The Jeep, parked safely under a lean to, had no roof and the torrential rains prevented any adventurous driving. Knowing they would be cooped up together in a small space for most of the day, they were extra polite, each making an effort to recapture the mood of the previous week. But the damage was done, doors that had been cracked opened wider. Their lovemaking was different, more wild, the adopted personas they formed for themselves withering away.

The following day, the rain poured even heavier. In the afternoon, they sat out on the porch that presented a wonderful view of the ocean. Bruce sat on a cheap plastic chair, his foot propped on an upturned bucket to stretch out his knee, looking at his laptop to see what was going on in Gotham and with Wayne Enterprises. Selina never asked what was happening in Gotham. As far as he could see, she didn't exhibit the slightest bit of curiosity about the city. Or maybe, she got her information from whatever friends called her. She wasn't as solitary as he thought she would be. Maybe just the thief part of her liked to work alone. She didn't offer any information about the sporadic calls or texts and while he was very curious, he had chosen not to ask thinking it best to not ask questions when you were unsure about the answers.

Selina reclined against the porch post, her bare legs stretched out on the wide wood railing. She was quiet but seemed restless. He watched her watching the rain wondering when she was going to tell him she was leaving.

She looked down at her phone, her brow furrowed. She put it away but then it vibrated again, she darted a quick look at him. He didn't like what he read in her expression and since they weren't being quite so polite anymore he didn't hesitate to ask.

"A job offer," she replied.

That was not what he expected to hear. "You're kidding, right?"

"And why would you assume it's illegal?"

"And what do you do that isn't?" He closed the laptop and set it on the small table next to his chair. "I didn't give you that program so you could continue committing crimes and erasing them."

"You're assuming I'll get caught. I won't."

"So says every thief in prison," he said, sharply.

"Not everyone has millions of dollars socked away," she retorted, glaring at him.

He was quiet for a few moments before he replied: "You could do something else."

She laughed, ruefully. "Like what? Get a job? I don't like people telling me what to do." She gave him a significant look warning him to back off.

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable, Selina."

She looked out over the rainy ocean. "I'm realistic, Bruce."

"You're throwing away your fresh start," he said as he lifted his foot off the bucket, wincing a little at the strain on his knee. "A fresh start that you went to considerable lengths to secure."

"I don't need you to tell me how to live my life," she said not taking her eyes off the view of the ocean.

"I'm pointing out truths you need to face."

"Really?" She swung her legs around to hang off the railing, facing him. "How about I point out some truths _you_ need to face?"

"You—"

"Truths like why you choose to live in perpetual pain? I mean, if I was loaded like you, the first thing I would've done is get my goddamned broken bones fixed properly."

"I don't have any broken bones," he said, hating the defensive tone in his voice.

"I think you like being in pain. So you can always be reminded of—"

"Selina…" he interrupted not liking the direction she was going.

"And what does Alfred think of this?" She asked, trying to get him to look her in the eyes but he looked away: she had touched another nerve. She was really good at that.

"Oh, no," she said, shock and disbelief apparent in her voice. "He thinks you're dead? How could you do that to that old man?"

He fixed a look on her that would shut up most ordinary people and even some extraordinary ones. But not her. She smelled weakness and like any good criminal exploited it.

"What'd he do that was so bad you're willing to let him think you're dead?"

At that, he rose and he didn't say anything to her but fixed her look as he passed her to leave the porch. In her look, he read anger and surprised disappointment.

"I would never let someone who loved me think I was dead," she said to him as he walked away. "That's worse than stealing rich people's trinkets."

When he returned, it was late and she was already in bed but not asleep. Without touching, he lay beside her thinking that this really was the only way for this thing between them to end but sometime in the night he'd slung an arm around her probably to keep her from sneaking off and leaving him forever. He noticed that she didn't shrug him off.

They both faced the small nightstand on her side of the bed. Bruce was floating between sleep and wakefulness, his senses perceiving the light of the dawn, when he heard the vibration of her phone against the side table. When she didn't waken, he shook her gently, thinking that for someone to call at this early hour, it must be important.

She took the phone and he saw who the caller was: Gotham County Detention Center.

"Shit." She muttered softly before getting out of bed. "Hello?" she said as she walked outside onto the porch. Bruce didn't have to strain too hard to hear her conversation, the night was still and the windows to the porch open.

"Oh, Christ." She said, sounding disgusted. "Now what?….Yeah? I didn't know they locked you up for a week for sleeping in the park…What'd you do, Jimmy?"

She paced the length of the small porch, back and forth. "You know what, don't tell me….What do you mean? You haven't seen me since last summer…No, not Christmas...No, I'm not wrong. Remember the thing that happened in Gotham where no one could get out? That's where I was… I can't…No really, I can't. I'm about a thousand miles away from where you think I am."

She held the phone away from her ear, looked up at the ceiling as if in prayer.

"Since when did we start keeping each other informed about our lives?...Yeah, I'm sure. Isn't there a time limit on jail phone calls?"

"Well, fuck you, too! I hope you get the shit beat out of you every day you're there!"

He heard the phone get thrown on the floor of the porch. When she didn't return, he followed her out, concerned about what he heard in her voice. Angry toughness had been there but he also detected something else: the vulnerability she kept tightly concealed. He wanted to know who called, who this Jimmy was that seemed to upset her.

She sat on one of the cheap plastic chairs, her head bowed down and her hands nervously smoothing back her hair.

"Problem?" He asked.

"Same old, same old." She sounded tired and not from being up at dawn.

He sat on the chair next to hers. "Who was that?"

"Jimmy," she said, then she darted a glance at him, her eyes holding something that almost looked like shame. "My father."

His jealousy evaporated replaced by guilt over his relief.

"Too bad the clean slate can't erase me from more than databases," she said as she stared mournfully toward the ocean.

"What did he do?"

"Who knows? He specializes in doing nothing. You've never met a man who works so hard to get out of working. He's a classic bum, mostly harmless just pathologically lazy. Usually the cops just drop his passed out ass at his house but sometimes people can talk him into doing stupid things. This is probably one of those times."

"What about your mother?"

"My mother? We haven't talked in over a decade." She straightened in her chair, her face taking on a considering expression. "Well, that's not true. A few years back she did call when her trucker boyfriend abandoned her in South Dakota or someplace like that. She needed money." She shook her head in disgust. "I don't know why I don't change my number."

He knew why she didn't change her number and by the look on her face, she knew, too, even if she didn't like the truth of it. Their eyes met and Bruce saw no traces of her usual defenses and guises in her.

She sighed. "Are we in the same time zone as Gotham?"

"Yes," he answered.

She pointed to the spot where she'd thrown the phone. He picked it up and handed it to her.

"I'm such an idiot," she said to him as she pushed buttons on her phone. "Hey, V. Call me when you get this. Jimmy's at County. I have some cash hidden so you can bail him out. Don't worry about calling me right back, he can sit there for awhile. Thank you. And tell Kev to give you a hug from me."

She made another phone call, presumably to a lawyer and by the sound of the message she left, the lawyer was only barely not a criminal himself.

"Well, that's all I can do for the poor bastard." She crossed her arms then gave him a quick, cautious glance before excusing herself to go for a run.

The day promised to be bright and rain free. Bruce beckoned to the kids playing soccer next door, giving them ten bucks and a promise for twenty more if they'd find him a bag of ice for his knee.

He powered up the laptop deciding to research medical clinics. There was an exclusive, very private clinic in Switzerland that probably catered to third world dictators but in addition to discretion the clinic specialized in cutting edge medical procedures. Two to three months recovery time with the tab topping a couple million was what it would cost him. The timing was good; Alfred took his annual vacation in the late summer so there was that additional incentive. Within the hour, the details were settled. The false name he provided would not be checked as long as the money appeared in the clinic's bank account.

Selina returned with a resigned but determined look on her face. He found he was not worried.

"I think it's time I go," she said.

"Where?"

"Home." She leaned against the railing, keeping a safe distance from him. "Since the cops aren't after me life should be easier."

That was the last thing he wanted for her. He could see her returning to Gotham and her old life swallowing her again.

"Is it because of your father?"

"Not really. Partly, I suppose. I seem to have become a slave to burdens that I've forced upon myself. And now I'm feeling guilty, like I'm abandoning my responsibilities."

He stood up, leaning against the rail next to her. "I think I know a little something about that."

"I suppose you do."

"What do you want, Selina?"

"I want to run away."

"I thought you did."

She shook her head. "It was stupid of me to think I could just leave and be a different person."

"It's not stupid, you're just scared." It was difficult shedding the persona you wanted to be seen, difficult to be yourself even if you weren't quite sure who that was.

She didn't argue that point. He took her hand, pulling her a little closer to him.

"What will you do now?" She asked.

"I'm going to Switzerland."

She made a face, "Switzerland? All I know about that place is they have banks and knives. And chocolate."

"They also have a premier medical facility with some interesting experimental procedures." He looked down at their entwined hands, feeling exposed.

"Really?"

He looked up at her, holding her gaze before he said, "I want you to come with me."

She smiled. "Why? You need help with sponge baths?"

"Something like that."

"Is this your new way of fighting crime?"

"Hopefully this will be less painful." He kissed her lightly before resting his forehead on hers. "Come with me," he said softly.

"Ok."

ETA A/N: this is the end of this story but I do have another in the works. Thank you for reading!


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